“What was this young Corsican’s name?”
“Benedetto.”
“Is that his Christian name?”
“He had no other; he was a foundling.”
“Then this young man escaped with you?”
“He did.”
“In what way?”
“We were working at Saint-Mandrier, near Toulon. Do you know Saint-Mandrier?”
“I do.”
“In the hour of rest, between noon and one o’clock—”
“Galley-slaves having a nap after dinner! We may well pity the poor fellows!” said the abbé.
“Nay,” said Caderousse, “one can’t always work—one is not a dog.”
“So much the better for the dogs,” said Monte Cristo.
“While the rest slept, then, we went away a short distance; we severed our fetters with a file the Englishman